So, You Wanna Be A Jedi?
by ReadingBlueWolf
Summary: Uncle Luke wants nothing more than to see him become a Jedi Master. If that means keeping some secrets from Leia? Well, so be it.
1. Balancing Act

_"BeeYoop!"_

"Don't even think about it," he warns the blue and white tin can. "If you tell mom I'll turn you to scraps."

 _"BeeYooooo…"_

"It's not like they said I _couldn't_." Ben climbs the faded yellow ladder and worms his way on top of the transparisteel canopy. "They just told me I couldn't balance on the railings in the _hangar_. They never said anything about this."

 _"Wooooah…"_

He harrumphs when the droid tells him again to get down. Despite the order, Ben balances atop the craft making his way over the back and onto the wing. One foot after another leads him slowly across, and he wobbles only a little. A smirk forms on his lips since it's much easier than trying to balance on the railing. Plus, it's nice his mom isn't around. Her gasps are always distracting, and he's fallen several times because of it.

A disgruntled growl sounds, and he sways to the left. Slipping, he grabs the laser barrel of Uncle Luke's X-Wing and holds tight.

"Why'd you have to do that?" Ben grumbles with a pointed look at the Wookiee. Slowly, he stands back up on the barrel. Stretching his arms out, he regains his balance. "I wasn't going to fall until you intrupted me."

He growls again.

"I said intrupted, Chewie!" He makes it to the end of the gun and beams from ear to ear. Turning around, he steps forward on his return journey.

There's a low grumble before Chewie plucks him from the wing.

"Lemme go!" He says, arms and legs flailing around. When the Wookiee gives a low roar, Ben crosses his arms. "Uncle Luke wouldn't care, and Mom would like that I'm off the railing."

Chewie grumbles.

"Dad would, too. He would let me balance on the wing," he objects.

His lips pull down in a frown as the Wookiee brings him back in the house. He lets out a frustrated sigh as Chewie carries him down the hall.

"You _always_ spoil things," Ben grumbles as the wheels in his head beginning spinning. _Maybe someone would buy him. Does Dad really need him?_

When Chewie reaches his bedroom, the door opens, and he places Ben inside. Lowering to one knee, he looks at Ben and growls.

"Uncle Luke caused problems, too. He still became a Jedi Master," he counters and moves to sit on his bed. "Plus, he balances on things."

The Wookiee gives another growl.

"Six is not too young to be balancing! I know the stories. Jedi were taken from birth." He looks away. _Too bad I wasn't._

There's a long sigh from the Wookiee before he exits the room and the doors swishes closed.

Ben pauses for a few moments waiting to see if Chewie will come back. Satisfied the Wookiee is gone, he walks to his dresser and digs through the drawers before coming across his datapad. His grin grows.

｡.•°•.｡｡.•°•.｡

Sitting at the dining table, he picks at his pasta. He's told it's something his dad likes at some smuggler's place. _Maybe that's why he's always gone._

"How many times do we have to tell you no, Ben?" his mother asks. Her _I-said-no_ gaze pins him to the chair.

Ben refuses to look at her. It's one thing he's in trouble for his balance beam. If he looks at her, he'll fess up to what he did _after_ the Wookiee sent him to his room. _That_ is something he doesn't want them to know about.

"Ben, your mother asked you a question," his father asks in that _You-better-tell-mom-the-truth_ voice.

He looks at his dad. Heart pounding, he focuses on the problem they know about. Rubbing an eye, he responds, "I wasn't in any danger. All I was doing was balancing."

"On an X-Wing," his dad replies. His father's slightly raised eyebrow lets him know he's in trouble.

Uncle Luke coughs into his glass. When Ben looks over, there's a twinkle in his uncle's eyes. His lips purse to the side. _Is he all right?_

Blinking, Ben looks back at his dad. "It's like you climbing on the Fall-con."

"It's Falcon, sweetie," his mother corrects and flashes a loving smile.

"That's what I said. Fall-con." Ben shakes his head and looks at his dad. "You get on top of that old ship."

"Old ship?" his dad questions and straightens up. He looks around the table as if he doesn't understand what was just said. "Old ship?"

Ben watches as his uncle continues drinking from his glass. The corners of his eyes wrinkle and there's something loving in his gaze. Movement grabs Ben's attention. Turning to his mom, he sees her cover her mouth, but there's a sparkle in her eyes as well.

"Chewie," his dad says turning to the walking carpet. "A little help."

Instead of saying anything, the Wookiee starts laughing. It's loud and fills the kitchen, but it also has his mom and uncle laughing as well. A smile grows on Ben's face as his dad rubs a hand over his weary face.

Looking to the Wookiee, Ben watches as Chewie laughs. When the Wookiee looks at him, a warmth spreads inside his chest. Chewie's always found him funny. Chewie really does care about him. _And he always tries to protect me._

The warmth fades as he looks at the table. A frown pulls his features downward. _I'm not showing I care about him, though._

Ben gives a cough and looks up at his mom. "Um… I have something to tell you."

His mom turns to him, and her smile fades. Brow raised, her lips purse together with that _oh-no-Ben_ look.

Before he can open his mouth, there's a knock at the door. Heat floods his cheeks as his eyes begin to sting.

His mother simply shakes her head.

* * *

 ** _Hey there. Hope your day is going well!_**

 ** _I hope you enjoy. I wanted something light and funny (and probably a little dark). It's a jaunt into Ben's hinted past, and Luke's as well. While it is an exploration of why Kylo's a bit...yanno, I do consider it AU. Or UA, depends on your point of view._**

 ** _Please do me a favor and let me know what you think. If you catch something, see an error, feel free to let me know in the box below._**

 ** _Make sure to hit the follow button on your way out._**

 ** _Thanks so much!_**


	2. Fur Ball

In all honesty, he just wants the world around him to be silent. Not even a whisper. Just the sound of his breath and silence. He needs the rest after the past week of rough travels. The galaxy as he knows it is still in disarray, much like the living room he sits in—not to mention all its occupants.

And in the face of being told he can't take his nephew out since the boy is still grounded, he finds himself even more irritated by noise. At least when it's his nephew talking or laughing, there's a bright light that fills Luke. It's as if the light side of the Force completely envelops him bringing about a peace he certainly can't find in the living room.

To that matter, Luke knows that Han is talking, but he's not sure what the smuggler is saying. All he's certain of is that Han and Chewie are fixing an engine part while Leia sets the table for dinner.

Leaning back on the couch, he stares at the ceiling. His eyes close as he works on drowning out the chaos. Only when the conversation turns to Ben, does Luke tune in.

"Sold him," Han says, shaking his head. "He tried to sell Chewie. Where'd he get that idea?"

"He _is_ your son," Leia remarks, and the exhaustion—not to mention frustration—in her voice is evident. Luke would be willing to bet a hefty amount of credits that it's been a source of contention in the house.

"I would never," Han objects. "Chewie is a member of this family."

Luke glances over to the Wookiee who's scrubbing part of the engine. Those big furry hands are working on making a piece shine again. Instead of commenting, Chewie gives a slight shake of his head. It appears as if even _he_ is frustrated by this endless conversation—and he was the target.

"What is it you're looking for from him?" Luke questions, running a hand over his eye.

" _Perfection_ ," Leia grumbles, confirming his suspicions of arguments. "Expectations set so high it's going to ruin him."

"Leia, that's not it and you know it," Han counters, shaking his head. "I'm looking for him to give Chewie an apology that he _means._ "

Luke sits up. "If he does that, I can take him out today?"

Han nods. "Sure thing, but good luck. Kid's as stubborn as they come."

Luke glances from Han to Leia. _Can't imagine why._

He practically leaps up from the couch and makes his way down the hall to the second door on the left. It opens with a swish to reveal his nephew lying on his bed zooming an X-wing around above him. With that mess of dark hair and sad eyes, Luke's reminded of his most recent battle.

 _If only I had trained Flint,_ he thinks. If he hadn't ignored the man a few years ago, refused to train him, Flint would have become something other than the Dark Lord under Lumiya. Things might have gone much better, and he wouldn't have had to leave the house eight days ago.

Walking to the bed, he settles on the edge and meets his nephew's gaze. Those brown eyes seem lost and confused. Something Luke saw in Flint and ignored. _I can't let him down._

With a breath, Luke glances around the room to see it's spotless. "This seemed to work out in your favor. Mom won't be on your case for a dirty room anymore."

The boy shoots him a dark look, not unlike those he's seen from Leia before. He does his best to fight off a smile. _No wonder they struggle with Ben._

Clearing his throat, Luke gives him a shrug. "You're the one who thought selling Chewie was a good idea."

"He wouldn't let me have any fun," his nephew objects, sitting up. The look fades, and curiosity now fills those dark, brown eyes.

"Is that why you threatened to turn Artoo to scraps?"

Ben's face blanches. He sets the X-wing in his lap and scratches the back of his neck. "You…You heard about that, huh?"

"Artoo tends to tell me everything." Luke chooses to ignore the fact there were several expletives in the droid's tale. _If only he could tell a straightforward story._ However, when Luke considers that he could have heard the story from Threepio under different circumstances, he's thankful for his mouthy droid.

"Stupid tin can."

Luke's brow scrunches. "That _tin can_ was trying to keep you from breaking bones."

"I've fallen before," Ben points out.

Luke chuckles and ruffles his nephew's hair. "You're in a sour mood."

"I've been locked in here for _eight_ days."

"Your mother was locked on Vader's ship for a while. In a room that didn't have a soft bed or toy X-Wings to play with."

His fingers fidget with the X-Wing, and a frown forms on his lips. It seems to weigh heavy enough on his nephew that he casts sad eyes upward to look at Luke. "Sorry."

While Luke knows Ben means it when it comes to him, he still needs him to say it to Chewie. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You didn't try to sell me. At least, I hope not."

He smiles for a moment before frowning again. "I have to apologize to the fur ball, don't I?"

"The _fur ball_ that loves you very much," Luke says and pokes him gently in the chest. " _And_ , who you love as well."

His gaze falls to his fingers which he fidgets with.

"Why haven't you apologized to Chewie?" Luke questions. "That's not like you."

Ben gives him a partial shrug. He seems to struggle with an answer as his eyes gloss. "He probably hates me so what good would saying sorry do?"

"Never know until you try. What's it going to hurt?"

Biting his bottom lip, his nephew stands and walks to the door. He looks back, worry in those brown eyes.

"Go on," Luke says with a wave of his hand. Once his nephew exits, he follows.

Ben walks down the hall to the living room where Chewie and his dad are still working on some engine part. He shuffles over to the Wookiee. He opens his mouth, but instead of words, tears fall from his eyes and he gives a little gasp.

Chewie looks at him before pulling him into a tight hug.

Ben's fingers weave into the long, brown hairs as he cries. "I'm sorry."

The Wookiee softly growls, telling him everything is forgiven.

Leia casts a glance to Luke and mouths, "thank you".

* * *

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 ** _Please do me a favor and let me know what you think. If you catch something, see an error, feel free to let me know in the box below._**

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	3. Angry at the Wrong People

Ben sits at the table finishing the writing Mom told him to do. It's hard to concentrate, though. Not because of the music Mom plays. No, he loves looking up to see her dancing in her chair and humming along as she goes through politics papers. It makes him smile and miss the moments when Dad's home because he'll grab Mom's hand and dance with her.

It's then Mom will beam from ear to ear and looks at Dad with what he's come to realize as love. It's not the type he sees in her eyes when she looks at him, nor Dad. It's something slightly different that's reserved for adults only—especially the parent-type.

Ben thinks maybe, one day, girls will lose their uckiness, and he'll be able to give that look.

 _But definitely not now_ , he thinks and scrunches his nose.

His thoughts turn back to his parents. He prefers _that_ Mom and Dad to the dad who's always gone and the mom who cries softly when she thinks he's not looking.

With a sigh, Ben puts his head on the table and closes his eyes.

"Are you okay?" his mother questions.

In an instant, he sits up and looks down at the paper.

"Ben?"

He glances at her. "I'm _fine_ , Mom."

And that is a lie. His head is pounding so hard it feels like it's going to explode. But he knows if he tells her it hurts, he can't go out with Uncle Luke when he arrives. Looking down at the paper, he forces himself to finish the last few lines. Once done, he hands it to Mom, he walks over to the couch and lays down.

"Fantastic job on this," she calls out.

He barely gives a grunt as he puts an arm over his eyes. With less light, his head feels slightly less explosive. He works on swallowing back a whimper, but there's a lump in his throat like he's just eaten a rock. All he really wants is to sleep and go out with his uncle.

At some point, he's aware the music stops. There's shuffling in the distance, but nothing that keeps him from drifting just out of his headache. There's nothing that calms his twisting stomach more.

Ben startles when Mom gently shifts him. She settles on the couch and lays his head on her lap. Running her hand through his hair, she softly hums a special tune. One she's hummed since he could ever remember, and only for him. Even now, it relaxes him.

Until there's a pause in his song, and he knows what's coming.

"What hurts?"

He squints up at her, risking the pain throbbing in his head. "I'm fine."

"Ben Solo, don't you lie to me."

He bites his lip to keep from saying anything and looks at the window. The sun is quickly setting, and his uncle is nowhere to be found. Tears fill his eyes.

His mom runs her fingers through his hair. "I know you don't feel well, and let me guess. You don't want to tell me because you want to go out with Uncle Luke."

He looks at her, tears starting to slip down his face.

"Honey, if your head hurts you can't go out."

"Not like I could anyway!" he snaps, anger running through him like water through a straw. "It's not like he'll show up!"

Mom continues to gently run her hands through his hair, soothing him into another lull. "You know better. When Uncle Luke makes you a promise, he only breaks it if he runs into trouble."

He sniffs and rubs his eyes. A whimper finally escapes him.

"Go to sleep, my little starbird. It's too late to go out with Uncle Luke," she whispers, running a hand down his back. "He'll take you out tomorrow."

Opening one eye, he looks up at Mom. "Will he get here?"

She nods, but there's something in her eyes that he feels as worry in his heart. "He always comes back to us, just like Dad and Chewie."

Yawning, his empty gaze looks to the coffee table. His eyes flutter shut. In his mind, images flash. Dark gloves. A temple. A bright-lit, sea-side city in the dark through a glass window. Things he's never seen and yet are so very familiar. He can almost reach out and touch the X-wing. He feels himself tremble at the foot of a dark throne.

A _swish_ drags him back to the real world. Looking at the door through blurry eyes, he sees Artoo rush in beeping words Ben's not allowed to say. His uncle enters moments later, covered in dirt and scratches.

"Watch your mouth, Artoo," Uncle Luke warns before turning towards the couch. He gives a tired smile to Mom and him. "Sorry, I'm late."

Ben smiles as he rests his head on Mom's lap again. It suddenly doesn't matter that Uncle Luke is late. Doesn't matter that the sun is down. Doesn't matter that they can't go out.

All he cares about is Uncle Luke came as promised.

And as his uncle picks him up and carries him to his room, the images of a temple and Artoo and the X-Wing shine brighter than the stars in his dreams.

｡.•°•.｡｡.•°•.｡

Despite some of the cushions pushing on fresh bruises, the chair is far more comfortable than the seat of his X-Wing. When he puts the footrest up, he's close to nodding off. However, Luke's barely eased himself onto the oversized chair in the corner before Leia starts.

"I think he's projecting his anger at Han on you."

He hears it in her voice. It's always a subtle undertone—easily missed if you're not paying attention—with Leia when there's something deeply troubling her. He doesn't see it in her eyes nor the way she holds herself, but that note has him struggling to stay awake.

With half-lidded eyes, he focuses on her. "Why's that?"

"He had an outburst because he thought you weren't coming." Leia slumps on the couch, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. "Han will promise to show and then not come home. Not that I blame him. This place is an active war zone when we're together."

"And you're still considering another child?"

She shakes her head. Gaze dropping to the coffee table, she looks past it, confirming something _is_ wrong.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he gets off the chair and moves next to her on the couch. "Leia?"

She swallows roughly, and he watches as she puts on that political mask she loves so much to don. "That's part of why he left this last time. I miscarried. Emotions have been…" She runs her hands over legs, smoothing out the fabric. "Neither of us are handling the loss well."

"That's why you're eager to take this trip," Luke realizes.

She told him three days ago she needed—wanted—to head to the Hosnian system. She said it was for a diplomatic meeting, but if Luke were to guess, Leia planned it so she didn't have to think about other issues. She went so far as to request that he accompany his nephew and her. _Knew I'd agree as soon as Ben's name came up._

"It'll be good for Ben to see how the political system works, and how the Galactic Senate functions."

"Good for who?" Luke questions. "You know he's not interested in that, especially not at almost seven."

"I wasn't, and I learned."

"You lasted real long," he points out, barking a laugh. "All of five seconds? Before you decided to get yourself captured for stealing the Death Star plans, and then Han and I needed to save you."

She waves a dismissing hand, but there's a fragment of a smile on her lips. "I'm still in the political circles. As Ben should be."

"He not _all_ you, though. Just like he's not _all_ Han."

To that, she sighs and lowers her head. "No, you're right. He's probably more like Vader."

Luke shifts. He considers the comment to be incredibly harsh given they're both Anakin's children. They know who he was and what he became. It's extremely unfair for her to pretend as if only Ben's affected by it.

However, he knows it's her greatest fear. She feels the pull to darkness within the boy. Luke wonders if she'd look at him differently, too, if he ever told her he felt that pull. He could have killed their father, joined the Emperor…

Luke takes a deep breath. "You're still not going to tell him?"

She shakes her head. "Absolutely _not_. You can feel those dark moments in him. I don't want him following those footsteps."

"Leia, the longer you delay this—"

"I said _no_ and that's final. He doesn't need to know who his grandfather was."

Luke nods, but he also doesn't agree. He's come to learn that life is more about the choices you make than what history has decided for you. Even now as he simply wants to protect his nephew from finding out in the worst way possible. Wants to save him from how he found out…

* * *

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	4. That Uncertain Feeling

_Blah. Blah. Blah._

 _Yada. Yada._

 _Lectures._

Slumped in the seat, arms crossed and knee bouncing from sheer boredom, he waits. The voices below are annoying, grating on every last nerve and setting his jaw into a locked position. They go on and on about mindless things they don't understand—they _couldn't_ understand even if they tried.

Instead, he's held hostage by the chair at a meeting he doesn't want to be a part of.

 _Is this the way of the galaxy?_

His eyes roll as Threepio _adds_ to the ridiculous conversation. Leave it to the droid to ramble about what has been. About precautions. About all the statistics. It's absurd. There's no reason to have a meeting about problems that have already been solved.

It needs to be about the future.

And given the chance, he'd tell them all how he felt about their _ideals_.

Glancing at the sleeping boy next to him, his knee slows to a stop. The boy's been out cold for about an hour now. The proceedings were something he could only take so much of before being lulled into a peaceful sleep.

Running a hand over Ben's dark mess of hair, he can't help the smile that twitches on his lips.

 _Innocence,_ Luke thinks.

Which is true enough about his nephew. The boy is, for all intents and purposes, innocent. Given his home life, he's bound to have issues here or there. Heck, when has Han or Leia showed him how to act? If they were both honest, it's not _that_ big of a stretch that Ben tried to sell Chewie.

 _And the Wookiee realizes that._

Instead, they keep looking for excuses because they're both afraid of the darkness in their boy.

 _But who doesn't have a thread of it?_

The slew of memories rush over him like water, and Luke can't help it. Can't help how he felt on the bridge with Palpatine and his father. Can't help that he was enticed to give in.

Sure, he overcame it, but there were moments. Lines nearly crossed. Life altering decisions made. And he was _reckless_. In fact, he lost his hand because he was so brash.

 _Not that I'd change anything._

Elbows on his knees, Luke leans forward and looks down at the diplomats. Most are in fancy fabrics, and the majority have never seen battle, only witnessed it from afar. They can only talk of what Vader did. How he controlled the universe. The darkness in him.

And Leia merely nods in agreement.

He shakes his head, and his gaze drops to the floor. He doesn't agree with the fact she denies her past. He finds it unnecessary that she lies about who her parents really are. He wonders if she'd turn him out as well if she knew his struggles.

He grimaces.

Looking at the diplomats, he ignores that last thought. Pushes it far from his mind. Instead, he chooses to focus on how Anakin made plenty of mistakes. He was anything but perfect from what Luke can find. And he's quite surprised there's so little about who his father was—and more to the point, who his mother is or was.

Which creates a bigger question he can't quite formulate.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he looks at the ceiling. _Why aren't things black and white?_

A tiny hand rests on his arm. Looking over, he sees a blurry-eyed Ben squinting at him.

"Uncle Luke?" he whispers. "What's going on?"

Smiling, he returns the whisper. "They're still blabbering on down there."

The little boy gives a silent laugh before leaning his head on his uncle's arm. His big, brown eyes look at the assembly below. "How long are they going to do this?"

"A while."

His nephew sighs, blowing his dark hair out of his eyes.

Luke ruffles Ben's hair back into his eyes with a grin. "Come on, Benny. We'll go make rocks move."

｡.•°•.｡｡.•°•.｡

He watches Uncle Luke's every move. Each gesture is deliberate. Each one placed in a specific spot. As his uncle readjusts Artoo, everything has to be precise for the droid to continue to function. Ben knows enough that if one thing is out of place it could really make the machine a box of scraps.

"I'm sure Artoo would love for you to scrub the dirt off the outside," his uncle says. The blue and white droid gives a series of beeping pleads in response.

Smiling, Ben nods. Grabbing a nearby scrub brush, he works on the dusty droid. "Why do you fix him? I thought he works fine."

"Maintenance," Uncle Luke answers.

"Main tents?" he questions. His face scrunches in confusion. "What's that?"

" _Maintenance_ helps Artoo from becoming rusty, and I also can help him get a new part before something fries."

"Oh," Ben replies with a serious nod. He would hate for the droid not to work because of something broken. His eyes widen as he scrubs Artoo's head. "Do all droids need it?"

"You ever hear Threepio complain about oil baths?" His uncle rolls his eyes, and his tone is thick with what Ben recognizes as sarcasm.

He laughs, because Threepio _does_ complain often. Glancing up, he notices his uncle pause to look him in the eyes and smile wide. The feeling in Ben's chest seems more than he can bear. It's overwhelming and gives him a feeling that's lighter than air. He wants to explode in a fit of giggles.

Someone sees him. Someone knows he's there. Someone is giving him that _you're a good boy_ smile. With Mom's nose always in a politic paper, and Dad rarely home, he always feels so alone. And he must have done something to deserve it. He must have been bad, because those smiles are very few and far between. No one wants to be around him. So, the fact his uncle gives that smile…

He looks away.

"You okay, Ben?"

He goes back to scrubbing dirt from the droid. How can he tell his uncle all the feelings he doesn't understand? The things he can't keep up with. Things he knows that if he says, he'll still be alone anyway. At the end of the day, Uncle Luke will be called away to whatever Jedi thing he has to do.

Which at least he has an excuse. Dad just leaves. Mom just dives into politics.

And he's out of place.

Ben's thankful when his uncle goes back to cleaning parts without asking more question. There's comfort in the silence. He doesn't have to explain that he hates when the Falcon closes its doors or when there's a politic problem.

But he wants his uncle to at least know the overwhelming feeling in his chest. Which still stirs and twists deep inside.

"Uncle Luke," he says, pausing and looking at him.

He doesn't know what to do when his uncle pauses and gives him his full attention.

 _How can Uncle Luke be so busy, and have time for me?_

"What?" his uncle questions softly.

"I…" _Just tell him you love him,_ Ben thinks. The brush in his hand trembles. _What if he doesn't say it back?_ he argues. He swallows roughly. "I…I like you."

His uncle grins brighter than the stars at night. The look in his eyes seems as if he just won a prize from a box of cereal. "I like you, too, Benny."

And suddenly Ben doesn't feel so alone anymore.

* * *

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 ** _Please do me a favor and let me know what you think. If you catch something, see an error, feel free to let me know in the box below._**

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 _ **My appreciation is endless. You guys rock!**_


	5. Birthday Planning

The alluring scent draws him from his room. It pulls him to his tiptoes, and he silently makes his way down the hall and towards the kitchen. It's not dinner time, so what he's doing is _kinda_ against the rules, but as far as he's concerned Mom shouldn't have baked.

Pausing in the shadows of the hallway, he sees light shining in through the dining room window bathing the table, and by extension the living room, with warm light. Looking towards the empty kitchen, his gaze lands on the freshly baked sweetcake. Licking his lips, Ben glances around the room. Seeing no one, he creeps further.

"Ben," Mom drawls.

He freezes like carbonite, eyes wide. In the next moment, she passes him, giving his back a gentle rub on her way to the couch.

Putting his feet together, he looks at her. "Yes?"

"What about a new calligraphy set?"

He shakes his head, body relaxing since he's clearly not in trouble for eying the cake. "What about an X-Wing?"

"Absolutely not," Mom replies with her _no-way-Solo_ look. She pulls her feet up and tucks them under her. "You're still too young."

His shoulders rise with a deep inhale and drop with a sharp exhale. "But it's _my_ birthday. I don't want to waste it on _another_ calligraphy set."

"You know your uncle encourages it for your training."

One brow rises in skepticism. He knows that's not _entirely_ the truth. _Mom_ wants him to practice for when he's on the Senate. At the Senate? Is the Senate?

He's not quite sure how boring politics work and doesn't care to find out.

Taking a few steps towards her, Ben crosses his arms. "You just bought me one, and I've kept it in decadent shape."

"I think you mean decent."

"That's what I _said_ ," he replies with a roll of his eyes.

Her gaze narrows slightly. "Watch the attitude, _Solo_."

His lips curve into a full-blown smile. Mom's tone is stern, but there's a bit of playfulness also, especially when she says _Solo._ His hands fold in front of him. " _Please_ don't get me another calligraphy set."

Her eyes soften, and he recognizes that _I-love-you-Starbird_ look. "We'll see."

Ben slowly makes his way to her. "Can I go outside?"

"If it keeps you away from that sweetcake you're eying," she says with a smirk.

"What?" he asks, eyes wide and innocent. He shakes his head, messy dark hair sliding into his eyes. "No, no way. Not me. I know it's for _after_ dinner."

Mom laughs. "Sure, _Solo._ "

He bursts into giggles as his right toe points into the floor and he turns it back and forth. "Real quick. What about the other suggestions?"

"I've already said no to the speeder and the rancor."

 _Drat._ He nods. "Okay, Mom. I understand." He moves to the door and stops. "What about the fathier?"

"Go play, Ben. Just be back by dinner."

Ben runs out the door. Sprinting under his uncle's X-Wing, he finds himself in the middle of the field. The long grass dances around his waist and he laughs. Falling to his knees, he crawls through pretending to be a rancor and roaring at imaginary predators. It isn't long before he's laid down in the soft grass and stares at the clouds floating lazily through a pink and orange sunset.

Out there, by himself, he enjoys the quiet and the breeze. It's a different kind of alone. It's one he wants and loves. It's not like being in the house and seeing it empty.

｡.•°•.｡｡.•°•.｡

"He wants an X-Wing."

"I can get that for him easy," Luke says, casting a mischievous glance in Leia's direction. "I could even give him mine."

Her fingers grip the edge of the counter she's seated on. "Don't you even think about it, Skywalker. If you so much as even—"

"But he'll be _seven_ ," he objects, his voice light and teasing. "That's perfectly old enough to pilot an X-Wing."

"This isn't funny, Luke."

That doesn't keep him from chuckling. He thoroughly enjoys teasing Leia about Ben's upcoming birthday. So far, she's scolded him for considering a fathier, a rancor, and a speeder—the last of which he's working hard to get her approval on.

Turning to the cupboard, Luke takes out dishes for dinner. He walks to the table and sets it. "You know, I had a speeder when I was young."

"He's not getting a speeder."

Luke rolls his eyes. "You can't play overprotective parent forever."

"He's _seven._ "

"I was six."

Her eyes narrow. "You have no idea what it's like to raise a child. You just get to be the adored, fun uncle."

Her words cut deeper than the lightsaber that took his hand. He remains calm, however, because he knows Leia can be like this. She gets stressed and lashes out at those closest. "All I'm saying is a speeder isn't a terrible idea. You can't drive the desire to fly from him. Han's been a pilot his entire life, and father was a fantastic pilot as well."

"Do you even know if that's the truth, Luke? What do we really know about him?" she questions then shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. Whatever he was, is not what Ben will become. He can't."

"Then tell him," Luke encourages. "Tell him our family history."

"We don't even know what our history _is_ ," she points out. "All we have are rumors and those don't make facts. The only history he needs to worry about is Organa."

That stings because Luke is well aware Ben is solely _Solo_ and _Skywalker_. There's not a bone in that little boy's body that wants to be some diplomat—not that Luke doesn't think he's capable. Ben's more than capable of anything he sets his mind to. However, just because his mom does what she's been raised to do, doesn't mean Ben wants to follow her.

 _Not that Leia honestly likes being a diplomat._ Luke knows she's strategic and would rather plan battles than sit in meetings. He just wonders how long it will take Leia to admit it. He's tired of her charade.

Sighing, he leans against the counter. There's no reason to argue with her. He can see she's in a mood.

Her shoulders sink as she huffs a sigh. "Han's been fascinated with flying since he was little he says."

"Ben's got a lot of his father in him," Luke comments, deciding it's best to steer the conversation that way. "You can't deny that."

Slipping from the counter, she crosses her arms. "What should we do for his birthday?"

And for that Luke has the best answer because he overheard the Wookiee making comments. "Let's go to Kashyyyk. He's never been there…" _Never been anywhere other than a diplomatic city._ "Ben would love it. Plus, Chewie's been itching to take him there."

Leia purses her lips. She takes several slow breaths and looks around the room before her gaze lands on him. "Fine. We'll go to this meeting for the next few days—"

"Han's supposed to be coming back, right? Why doesn't Ben go with Han and Chewie? I'm sure he'd love to travel in the Falcon."

Leia's eyes narrow. "I don't need him caught up in a smuggler's run."

"Won't be. Han wouldn't be that careless."

Leia pins him with a look.

"Come _on_ , Leia. Let him go. Han will look after him. And if not, well, there's Chewie."

"And you."

"Me?" Luke questions, his brow arching high.

"You'll go with him. It's the _only_ way I'll allow it."

Luke knows he has other matters to attend to in the next week. However, he wants Ben to experience some fun. "Fine."

* * *

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	6. New Birthday Plans

Luke sits up, book falling onto his lap as he reaches for his lightsaber. In the dead of night, he's vaguely aware of the large shadow moving into the hallway while a smaller one locks the door. Rubbing his eyes, he sees Han turn towards him.

"Hey, Kid," he whispers softly. "We do have beds here, you know."

From the frame of the hallway comes an agreeing growl, revealing the Wookie is still there. Luke smiles as Han walks over to the sofa and takes a seat. With a wave of Luke's hand, one of the curtains behind him opens allowing white moonlight to spill into the room.

"How are you?" Luke asks.

Chewie growls something about singed fur, but Han interrupts. "Don't be such a baby. It wasn't anything dangerous."

The snort and grumble from Chewbacca says otherwise. Shaking his furry head, the Wookie turns and heads to his room.

Grinning, Luke turns to Han. "Nothing too dangerous?"

"Just a shipment of slugs."

"Slugs?"

"The fire kind," Han explains as if it's really no big deal. "A tad explosive at times if they're shaken. Nothing we couldn't handle."

"And Leia thought you were racing…"

"Look, Kid. Not every race pays the bills, so don't you go telling her."

 _Leia is the last person I would tell._ Luke closes the book and sets it on the table.

"Reading about Naboo?" Han says with a glance at the binding. "What could possibly be so fascinating about that?"

"Padme Amidala," Luke replies, looking at the book.

Han's brow rises. "Wasn't she an empress or something for a Kessel run?"

"Book says queen," Luke says. "Elected at fourteen. Worked on peace and diplomacy during the final years of the Galactic Republic."

Han leans back and crosses his legs. "Think she's your mother?"

Luke bites his bottom lip before looking at Han. "I'm looking for anyone who was associated with Anakin. From the bit I've read, she was in a relationship with Palo Jemabie, pregnant with his child at her death."

"Another dead end."

His gaze falls to the floor as he leans forward, elbows settling on his knees. "Yep."

"Life's too short to spend on the past," Han sighs. He then rubs the back of his neck before drawing a breath and Luke's attention. "You know, kid, when I was younger I wanted to know who my parents were. For me, I questioned who'd abandon a child? In my situation, it doesn't really matter." He gives a shrug as if it doesn't bother him, but the sadness in his hazel eyes speaks otherwise. "All I'm saying is there's a piece in every adopted child that wants to know who they really are."

Luke doesn't immediately respond. The twinges of blues he feels from the smuggler overwhelm him. In all their time together, Luke's never once heard Han talk about what plagues him from the past—at least nothing important like this. Suddenly, being raised by his father's brother on a moisture farm seems like a blessing.

"Night, Kid." Han rises from the sofa and stretches with a loud yawn. "You might wanna get some sleep as well."

Grabbing his book, Luke rises. "Hey, question. Did you have any plans for Ben's birthday?"

Han's gaze darts everywhere but Luke. "Thought Leia was taking care of it?"

There's a crack in Luke's heart. He can see the beginning stages of a repetitive cycle. He doesn't blame Han for it since the man doesn't know how to be a father. However, maybe Luke can lend a hand—or try.

Luke walks over to him. "I was thinking Kashyyyk. I heard Chewie growling about taking Ben there, I know Ben wants to go there, and I thought he might like riding with you in the Falcon."

Han looks at him, sadness gone. There's hope and overwhelming anxiety in those hazel eyes now. "Leia approve that?"

"Yes." Luke nods and decides it's best not to let Han know the _exact_ details of the agreement.

That doesn't help the anxiety now shown in little lines on the smuggler's face. "I don't know if it's a good idea. The Falcon isn't in the best condition for a child."

"Amazing," Luke says, shaking his head. The cracks in his heart widen because there's _always_ an excuse. "Every word of what you just said was wrong."

Han crosses his arms. "Who are you to say—"

"Come on, Han. You can't keep avoiding him."

"You try having a boy who's strong with that Sith crap!" he snaps and then winces. There's a full moment of silence before his head falls as his shoulders slump. "Leia keeps hoping you'll be the influence he needs."

"What he needs is you."

"Sure, Kid."

Luke places a hand on Han's shoulder. "I'm serious."

He looks up at Luke, skepticism written all over his face. "How would you know that?"

"Because I would have given anything to meet my dad earlier, Sith or not," Luke answers. "Uncle Owen did a fantastic job raising me. They worked hard and gave up their lives for me, but I always wanted my dad in my life."

The smuggler sighs and Luke can see he's beginning to fold. "What am I going to give him? Anything I teach him will lead him to the dark side."

"You came from the Empire, didn't you?" Luke questions. "You know their tricks and tactics. You can show him the warning signs so he doesn't end up there. And being a smuggler isn't as bad as you paint it."

"Chewie's fur _is_ singed."

Luke holds up his left hand. "Who doesn't earn a few scars along the way?"

Han looks at the hand then him. "What should I do?"

There's a moment where Luke plans to tell him to fly straight to Chewie's home planet just as discussed. However, Han and Chewie— _and Ben_ —would be bored to tears over it. Plus, if there's a job near the outer rim it might serve two purposes since Luke needs to visit Tattooine. Han could drop him off there. He can always meet them on Kashyyyk before Leia arrives.

Thus, the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Take him on a run for his birthday, he'll love that."

"Leia would kill me," Han counters.

"So, we don't tell her. You're simply picking up a few supplies on your way to Kashyyyk and we'll celebrate there."

Han rubs the back of his neck. "She's not going to believe that."

Luke chuckles. "She has another meeting and I'm positive that's not how Ben wants to spend the days before his birthday. So, she can meet us there."

* * *

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